The Spy and the Sniper
by undiscoveredlegend
Summary: Dave has just moved into the neighborhood and already has an admirer? Oh god are those..binoculars?
1. Chapter 1

The Spy and the Sniper

chapter 1

Your name is Dave Strider and you don't know what the heck is going on. You and bro had recently moved into a typical house in the suburbs of Texas. You were in your room unpacking what little boxes you had. You could hear bro moving things around downstairs but that wasn't the problem here, the problem was the kid staring at you from his window with, oh god are those binoculars? Don't tell me these are the kind of people who live around here.

"Bro there's a kid staring at me with binoculars!" you shout down the stairs keeping an eye on the kid leaning out his window. He wasn't exactly inconspicuous about it.

"Wait what?" you hear him shout. "Just shoot him with your paintball gun or something kid, I'm busy." great idea bro.

You really aren't sure about what your about to do, but oh well, you could pin it on bro if things went south. You grab your paintball gun from a box perched on your bed and stick the tip out the window. You aim just to the right of the kid, not really wanting to hurt him, just scare him a bit… Maybe this is a bad idea.

…

Your name is John Egbert and you have to admit you feel a little creepy. But hey, you're bored. It's not like you're doing anything wrong anyways, besides, the people who moved in next door are weird! The kid who looks about your age has been wearing these aviator shades since you first saw him the day he came to look at the house for sale next to yours. Maybe he's blind or something.

You like to think of yourself as a spy, like James Bond or something. That WAS a pretty good movie now that you think about it. Plus, spies are allowed to do this sort of thing right?

He's moving around in his room now, but the sun makes it hard too see especially with binoculars layered over glasses. You think maybe he's grabbing something off his bed? You lean out your window a little bit more, going up on your tippy toes, in an attempt to see through the sun's glare. Unfortunately, you see it a little too late.

…

Your name is Dave strider and oh god the kid just fell out a two story window. You freeze for a second, oh god oh god. You throw your paintball gun onto your bed and race into the hallway fumbling down the stares loudly.

Bro was in the living room crouched over a box of puppets. You come to a halt a few feet away from him, hands shaking. You both stare into each others eyes (or shades) for a moment.

"I think I just killed someone." you breathe before bolting out the door, not even bothering to grab shoes.

You find him sitting on the ground rubbing his head with a dazed, if not angry, expression plastered on his face. Aside from a nasty scratch up his arm and a bruise that was starting to form on his jaw, not much looked wrong with him. Your first impression of him was that he was a dork. A nerd. That one kid nobody liked. Not to mention, he was staring at you with binoculars so he was probably also a freak. He had raven black hair that looked like he had just crawled out of bed. He was scrawny and bony and looked pretty short. He had thick rimmed, square glasses that looked like they could be hipster glasses if they were any bigger. But the one thing you noticed, even above his skinny, nerdy awkwardness was his eyes.

They were blue. Not just the normal, pale blue that looked nearly grey, but blue. Bright, vibrant, over-the-top blue. And his eyes were really big. Like a startled deer. He probably _was_ startled as he had just fallen from a two story window, but you got the impression that they were naturally this big.

In any other situation you would have found him downright attractive. If he hadn't been spying on you like some middle aged stalker that is.

"I… um, saw you fall from your window," you stuttered awkwardly nodding your head towards his window. He stared up at you with those eyes for what seemed like minutes until you shifted your gaze from him.

"Yeah well," he cleared his throat "uh. Yeah. Did you by any chance see what happened to… make me fall?" he was staring at the ground. It was at this moment you realized he didn't know you had shot him. You could get out of this.

"Naw man, I just saw you fall and wanted to make sure you were… ok." you were one smooth liar. The smoothest. He'll never know.

"Oh… well, thanks," he said, scratching behind his ear. You inwardly breathe a sigh of relief. At least he was ok. A broken bone would have been problematic. You reach down and hold your hand to help him up. He readily accepted it and wobbled onto his feet.

"Ow ow ow." He falls back to the ground in a flurry of creative curses. Please no. No no no.

You kneel down beside him your gaze falling to a red and somewhat swollen ankle.

"Are you ok?" your voice cracked, just great.

"My ankle is," he motions to the swollen ankle. You have got to do something. And quick,

"Why don't I get you some ice?" you croak. "You can even like, come get it with me." What are you doing Dave? The boy just sits there and stares at you. "What?" you ask, straightening your shirt.

"Incase you forgot, I can't really walk right now." he says, his eyes still trained on you. right…

"Well you can hop on my back." you offer.

"Are you… sure?"

"Sure am." and with that you bend down and grab him by the arm and pulling him haphazardly onto your back. You ignore the little curses and flailing limbs coming from the smaller boy. He was unsurprisingly light, as you could tell from his wiry frame, so carrying him was no big deal. You stride to your own house, up the front stairs, and somehow manage to jimmy the door open with your knee. You're greeted by a gaze from your bro. he stares at you for a moment before setting down the smuppet he had previously been holding and looking at you with his most serious face.

"So where did you hide the body?" he says nonchalantly.

"Shut up," you fire back pushing a few boxes aside with your foot and making your way past bro and into the kitchen. You set the boy down on the cabinet and take a look around the room. There was nothing there but boxes and a refrigerator. Do we even have ice? You think to yourself, opening the fridge and peering in. Nope.

"Bro I need ice." you shout into the living room.

"Do I look like I have ice kid?" he shouts back. Oh man. You walk over to the sink and turn the faucet all the way to cold before sticking your finger in the stream to test its temperature. Hopefully this will be good enough.

"Uh you can come put your foot under the water if you want." you say turning to face the boy sitting on your counter. He actually was pretty cute now that you look at him, sitting there gazing around your kitchen with his eyes, oh god those eyes, so bright and big and full of life. Wow Dave stop thinking about that. He scoots across the counter top until he's sitting right next to the sink. Apparently he wasn't wearing shoes while spying on you, so all he has to do is take of his sock and put his foot under the faucet. He lets out a gasp, probably from the coldness of the water, but he gets used to it and soon enough he's sighing from the relief.

For the first time since actually seeing him fall out the window, you feel bad about it. It WAS kind of your fault; you shouldn't have taken Bro's lousy advice.

"Hey man, I'm sorry about your foot." you say rubbing the back of your neck.

"It's fine, it wasn't your fault." a twang of guilt hits you. You can't very well tell him now! He might hate you, and as much as you hate to say it, you kind of wanted to get to know the nerdy kid who fell into your life. Pun intended.

"Yeah." you mumble. "It wasn't my fault."


	2. Chapter 2

The Spy and the Sniper

Chapter 2

((AN: so im really bad at sitting down and writing? and actually uploading the 2nd chapter in a reasonable time limit uh? please don't hate me. butut I finally finished it so maybe that makes up for the wait! wont they get mad at me for neglecting to upload the next chapter for like five hundred million thousand gazillion years? *waves hand dismissively as my nervous laughter fades into sobbing* no but seriously, enjoy!))

This was the day that Dave Strider went to his first day of school.

The local high school wasn't particularly hard to find. It was the largest building in this area and you lived fairly close to it. There was a bus stop just up the street from your house, but sitting in a giant yellow vehicle crammed full of a bunch of puberty stricken kids hardly seemed like a pleasant experience. And so, you found yourself striding (heh) down the sidewalk on your way to your first day of school in a new town.

Normally, this would have been no big deal. If it were the beginning of the school year that is. But no, it was right smack dab in the middle of the second quarter. You would be the "new kid", shoved into a school full of kids who had known each other forever. Everyone here would have already made friends, formed groups that would have no room for you. You're probably over reacting, but that's who you are.

With any luck, you can make it as a cool kid recluse, it's probably best to stay out of everyone's way anyways. You can act like you don't care and that will be that. You'll just have to survive a couple more years and then you can get out of here. Until then, you're stuck in this one horse town. You reach up and readjust your shades. Breath Strider, you can do this.

The school has come into view now, and you have to take a moment to stop and have a mild break down. You are the coolest of cool kids. Ever. In the world. You've got this. You straighten up and start walking again, making your way to the front doors. You can see some other kids now, walking alone or in groups, all heading into the school.

You put on your poker face and follow them through the doors.

Only to duck to the side and have another mild breakdown. This is so un-cool you think to yourself. But as much as you hate to admit it, you really want to be accepted. You want to make friends and laugh and talk and do teenager stuff. Come on Dave, you think staring blankly at the white concrete wall. What are you even freaking out over, it's not that bad. You're so cool, you're sure these lamos will flock to you. You'll have friends in no time, you just need to relax. You can hear more kids coming through the doors, talking to there friends and walking past you without a care in the world.

One group in particular though, stands out to you. Mostly because they're laughing. Who laughs like that at seven o'clock in the morning? its just not normal you think trying to hear them better. Whatever the joke was is over, and now they're just laughing. One has a small polite laugh, obviously a girl. Another, a girly childish giggle. One legitimately /guffaws/. Other assorted laughs ring in your ears, making up the group. But one manages to be louder, more whole hearted, dorkier.

You would recognize that laugh anywhere.

You spin around to find yourself face to face with the one string of good luck you've managed all morning. John Egbert. You stride (heh pun intended) over to the group, slightly pushing past a taller, tan boy, and throw your arm around John's shoulders.

"Sup Egbert." you say in a flippant tone. He looks up at you, the remains of a goofy grin still on his lips, obviously confused.

"Wha- oh! Dave!" he grins up at you. He's a lot shorter than you and has to look up when he speaks. "What's up?"

"Oh you know, just being cool..." smooth Dave, "What about you? How's your ankle?" you say nodding towards the boy's feet. He looks down at his ankle then back up at you.

"Its good, I'm tough!" he giggles, pulling up the edge of his pant leg revealing an ace bandage. You wince, trying (and failing) to cover it up with a smirk. As far as you know, the boy still doesn't know it was you who shot him out of his window and you would like it to stay that way.

"I'm glad." you say, removing your arm from around the smaller boys shoulders as you realize it had been resting there throughout this conversation. Smooth Dave.

"What happened to your ankle John?" the taller boy you had previously shoved out of the way practically shrieked. He had a British accent and hair just as black as John's that swooped up from his forehead. You already didn't like him.

First of all he was loud and obnoxious and he totally just pushed you out of his way to get a better look at Egbert's ankle. You glare at him from behind your shades before realizing it won't do any good as he can't see your eyes. These shades are a blessing and a curse.


End file.
